


Tales Of The Fire Nation

by OurImpavidHeroine



Series: The Abdication of Hou-Ting LIV or: How Wu Learned to Stop Being Foolish and Love the Detective [17]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Multi, Non-TLOK Comic Compliant, One Shot Collection, Post-Canon, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2018-12-15 17:14:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11810532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OurImpavidHeroine/pseuds/OurImpavidHeroine
Summary: A collection of one-shot stories set in the Fire Nation: Part of my post-series and post-canon Wuko universe.No rhyme or reason to them; sometimes they just come to me, sometimes people request them, sometimes they are scenes that don't make it through cuts. I'll just post them as I write them!These one-shots will be kept in chronological order.





	1. A Clarification of Principles: A Majordomo Is Hired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Majordomo of Prince Hou-Ting's new holiday residence handles the family's first visit.
> 
> Written for the Different POV Challenge on Tumblr. Prompt by chloenightswantsflight!

Miwa closed the door to her receiving room and stood there for a moment, listening; all was quiet. With a sigh she toed off her indoor shoes and poured herself a small glass of wine from her cabinet before letting herself settle down into the comfortable chair on her bedroom's terrace. It had gotten dark about an hour before and she hadn't had a moment to herself since she'd risen before dawn. The prince and his family had been seen safely off to their airship, already making their way back to Republic City. She took a swallow of her wine and closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of the jasmine drifting up from the garden. Her day was done.

Her sister had thought she was making a terrible mistake, leaving the Firelord's household to come to this one. It had been a risk, of course. Being the under-housekeeper at the Firelord's holiday residence at the age of twenty-nine was nothing to sneeze at, especially considering she was an Island girl. Most of the nobility with homes on Ember Island brought in their own staff from the capitol. Her salary had been good and with the family so often at the Palace the work had not been difficult at all. Which was the problem, really. She'd been bored, working for the Firelord. Weeks and sometimes even months of doing the bare minimum, simply making sure the house was clean and in a state of constant readiness. There was no challenge to it, no real future ahead. The best she could hope for was to take over as housekeeper someday, and that wasn't going to be anytime soon, either.

The Former King of the Earth Kingdom had visited the Firelord's holiday home with his family several times over the years. About a year ago he'd shown up alone, however. He'd come to the Island to look at an estate going on the market; the Firelord had instructed her majordomo to assist him with whatever he needed. He'd asked the majordomo if he had any locals on his staff that might be spared to assist him for a day or two and she'd been the one told to put aside her other duties and dedicate her time to the Prince. At first she'd been a little resentful; she hadn't wanted what she privately considered babysitting duties. It hadn't taken more than a couple of hours for her to realize, however, that the Prince was charming, witty, and very unconventional. She liked him. He'd taken her with him to walk through the home he was thinking of buying, murmuring to himself as he inspected the closets (insufficient), the kitchen (too antiquated) and the floors (would never do) before he turned a sharp gaze onto her. _Here is where I need your assistance, please,_ he'd said. _I assume most of these homes were built with certain comforts in mind, and I would venture to say that many of those comforts were not, as they say, particularly conducive to Island life._ He'd flashed a rather conspiratorial grin. _In other words, what fool things in this house need to be renovated or replaced?_ He'd surprised a laugh out of her, and his eyes twinkled as he silently acknowledged it.

She'd done as he asked, walking him through the house, showing him what she thought should be changed. He listened intently; she wondered if she should be making notes but realized that he was remembering what she had said with perfect recall. He was intelligent, too. And when he'd wondered about adding some sort of retracting roof to the solarium, he'd immediately noticed her slight hesitation and had raised up a hand. _Please be honest with me. I am relying upon your local expertise. It does me no good at all if you are hesitant to correct me because you fear I will be offended. I have asked for your opinion and I assure you that I want exactly that. Directness is what I need._ He'd meant it, too, asking her numerous questions and listening to her responses.

He'd decided to buy the home; it was merely a few doors down from the Firelord's own residence, a large piece of property. Before they'd walked back to the Firelord's he'd turned to her. _I will, of course, need a majordomo. It goes without saying that it would be highly impractical for me to bring my own staff back and forth from Republic City. In your opinion, what kind of permanent staff would a home this size need? And what kind of arrangements could be made for temporary help when the family was in residence?_ She'd thought for a moment and given him her opinion as asked; he'd listened, nodding slowly. _Do you think you could handle that sort of responsibility? And just as importantly, would you like the job?_ She'd been rendered speechless for just a moment; he'd chuckled. _I am offering you the position, Miwa. Majordomo of my holiday home. Your pay would be commiserate and more with the position, of course. I have people who handle the financial aspects of my life and I would expect you to present them with an annual budget for the staff and the upkeep of the home, that sort of thing._ He waved a hand. _We can discuss this later if you decide you would like the job. I should make it clear, however, that my expectation is that my majordomo will handle my home with as little input from me as possible._ She must have had quite a look on her face; he'd laughed again and then invited her to dine at one of the local restaurants, discussing his needs with her as they ate fish cooked straight from the sea. She'd peppered him with questions but he seemed quite content to answer them.

As they finished he leaned back in his chair, patting at his mouth with his napkin. _This was an excellent dinner._ He shook his head, lips curling up slightly. _Do you know, this is the first time in my life I've been out in public without a bodyguard of some sort?_ His sigh was pensive. _If my husband knew about it he'd shout at me for hours._ He'd leaned forward and tapped the side of his nose. _Let's not tell him, hmm?_ He'd ordered another round of tea and steepled his fingers together. _Now, then. I suppose I should discuss the family with you. We are not the most...conventional...family, to be sure. There are things you should know about us before you agree to work for us._

She'd taken the job, of course. Of course she had. How could she turn it down? The next months had been a maelstrom of contractors, builders, carpenters, interviewing staff, making sure the neglected garden had been pruned into shape. The Prince had visited once more under the pretext of visiting the Fire Palace, approving plans, meeting up with the decorators and choosing furnishings. He'd promised he'd speak to the Firelord about hiring her; she had no idea what had been said but the Firelord had met with her directly and had congratulated her on her new position. _The Prince is a personal family friend,_ she'd said, in that formal way of hers. _I trust you will serve him well._ Everything else he had instructed her to send via his public relations firm, telling her that the house was meant to be a surprise for the family. He'd always answered her queries promptly, however. Much to her surprise he'd really meant what he said about leaving the running of the house to her. That wasn't always true; sometimes employers said that, but then insisted on micromanaging everything. Not so with the Prince. He sent her a very detailed list of their needs (the Crown Prince broke out in rashes when he ate gobo; the Lady Beifong did not care for an overly soft mattress; the Prince Consort took milk and sugar in his tea and would need a constant supply of both; his own majordomo and chef who traveled as part of the family would most likely attempt to intimidate any chef she might engage and she should therefore hire accordingly) and assumed she would take care of things on her end. He was certainly paying her to do so. Her salary was far more than generous and he'd made sure that the rest of the staff was also well-compensated. _I prefer to pay well for excellent service,_ he'd written to her. _I find that paying well and ensuring that working conditions are above standard facilitates a low turnover rate._ He wasn't wrong about that, she had to admit. Her permanent staff was everything she needed them to be and the temporary staff all came highly recommended. 

The Prince had let her know with plenty of advance notice that they were coming for the New Year; he'd also given her a complete guest list. She'd personally gone to buy decorations for the home and had spent a pleasurable afternoon acquiring them. She'd also learned, over the months, that when the Prince told her to spend generously that he meant exactly that and so she spent the entire amount allotted for them. The house was spotless; the kitchen well-stocked. When his airship landed she received a call from the airfield; thus she and the staff were ready when the taxis pulled up.

And there was the family. Lady Beifong, standing tall and strong, with a rather stately presence. Lozan, his Republic City majordomo, with Lady Beifong on his arm, intently searching for any faults. The Prince Consort, as handsome as she remembered from the few times the family had visited the Firelord. The eldest princess, the one they were calling the Fire Butterfly, the one her staff had been murmuring about. The Crown Prince, curious, full of smiles. The youngest princess, a little beauty with excellent manners.

It was the other one, however, that she found herself staring at. The Prince had told her about this Qi; had instructed her to tell her staff that they did not prefer to be addressed by lady or sir; that their position in the family was currently being negotiated but that they were part of the family and not the staff. There they stood, dressed in a smart suit of raw lavender silk, with a silk flower in their buttonhole, imposing, short hair combed back, gazing about the entryway. She could not stop looking at those sharp cheekbones, those narrow hips. They moved with smooth power, and when they turned and caught her eye, staring, she was mortified. They must think she was staring because of the mystery of their gender! But it wasn't that. She had never seen anyone as attractive as this Qi. They made her heart pound in her chest. 

She immediately regained her composure and bowed; she was introduced to the Prince's guests and escorted them to their rooms. She resolutely put this Qi out of her mind as she flew through the rest of her day; making different sleeping arrangements, ensuring that a vegetarian entree was available for the other airbender that came unannounced, dealing with the chef's affronted feelings when the other majordomo expressed his doubts that he was capable, sending a footman into town to acquire wax for the surfing boards, the one thing she had forgotten to purchase. More guests appeared; the dining room looked as if it had been in the path of a monsoon. Eventually the family left for the Firelord's and the staff was dismissed for the New Year holiday, taking advantage of the taxis the Prince had considerately provided for to get them to their homes. 

She'd spent a lovely New Year with her own family, telling her sister and parents all about her first impressions of her new household. It wasn't until she returned to the house that she heard about the attempted robbery and the fact that this Qi had killed the thief that had threatened the eldest princess. There was nothing much for her to do at that point; someone had already cleaned up and the Island police had spoken to the entire staff - permanent and temporary, both - but since none of them had been there they had very little to add. One of the footmen had seen someone with a delivery wagon hanging about in the days before but could not give a definitive impression of the man and admitted that it could have been someone making one of the many deliveries necessary to the New Year. Well, it would not happen again, not if she could help it. She gathered the staff together and instructed them to keep an eye out for anything suspicious in the future and to report it to her immediately, regardless of how unimportant it seemed to be.

She had one rather unsettling moment, however. Madame Nuo Beifong, the the daughter-in-law of Lady Suyin, approached her as she was walking down the hall, fresh linens in her arms. Madame Beifong was a beautiful woman; dressed expensively but with good taste, her unfashionably long hair kept in place with jeweled pins. _So. You are in charge of His Highness's home, here,_ she said, and Miwa bowed. _Do you think yourself qualified?_ the lady asked, and Miwa had tried not to bristle. _His Highness's concerns are my concerns, do you understand?_ Miwa's chin had come up at that. _They are mine as well,_ she had replied, meeting her eyes. The lady's mouth had curved up, an expression that was in no way mirthful. _See that they are,_ she had responded, the threat implicit in her tone. Miwa had held her ground, but the woman had angered her, approaching her that way. Who was she to make this home her business? Who was she to speak to her that way? The lady left her then, but not without another cool, dismissive look. 

 _Don't mind Nuo,_ said the Prince Consort, and as she turned he came out of his bedroom and sighed. _She thinks of Wu as hers. She gets a little territorial. She's even let me have it a few times._ Miwa nodded, unsure of what to say. _Listen, I'll say something to her so she won't bother you again, you've got enough to do without having Nuo piling on top of it. Don't worry about it, seriously._   _Wu's really pleased with you, trust me on this one. And the house looks great, so thanks for that._ With a nod of his own he moved past her and headed after Madame Beifong. She took in a deep breath, let it out, and tried to let Madame Beifong's unasked for interference go.

It was a good visit, otherwise. A few small bumps and mishaps; nothing out of the ordinary for a new household, however. Nothing that she could not smooth down and resolve. The Prince did approach her at one point and mentioned that he found the staff slightly too deferential; she immediately addressed it with them. At another point she had to give them a bit of a dressing down when she found most of them shirking their duties in order to watch the eldest princess sparring on the beach with her father and Prince Iroh. It is not that she could blame them - who hadn't heard of that infamous demi kai? - but it was unprofessional, just the same. None of the household was particularly demanding; the royal children were well-mannered, thankfully, and the Prince's guests had not caused any undue trouble. (The long-haired Beifong was a trifle odd and had terrified the youngest of the housemaids by turning around and shouting at her when she had accidentally dropped an empty tray behind him when he was painting; he had come into the kitchen later, completely unannounced, and had sincerely apologized to her with a sort of old-fashioned courtliness that had been unexpected. When Miwa had tried to tell him it was unnecessary he had merely looked at her sideways and said, _I don't like to yell at little girls, it hurts their feelings._ )

The night before they had been scheduled to return to Republic City she'd taken a moment to herself in the back garden before bed; just a quick circuit to catch her breath and to smell the jasmine. As she came around the bend she'd been surprised to see that Qi sitting atop one of the low stone walls, cigarette in hand. She'd immediately apologized and started to withdraw but Qi shook their head.

"It's fine. Don't go back on duty for my sake. Finish your walk." Their voice was so quiet it was hard to hear over the ever-present hiss and roar of the waves. She wasn't sure if they did that on purpose or if their voice was just like that. They reached into a pocket and pulled out a silver cigarette case, offering her one. Miwa did not smoke. She took one anyhow. "The garden back home is so formal. I like this one." They leaned forward with a silver lighter and lit Miwa's cigarette, cupping her hand a bit so the sea breeze wouldn't take the flame with it.

"I'm glad it is to your satisfaction," she replied, trying to hold the cigarette in a way that looked sophisticated instead of mirroring how foolish she felt.

They sat back a bit to regard her, blowing out a smoke ring. Showy. She liked it. "You know, I'm not royalty. I used to drive Wu around. I'm not exactly comfortable with being treated like I'm high and mighty." A grin, the wicked smile of something that would stalk you while you feared and desired it both. "Guess that's not really your problem though, is it?"

"Only if you make it that way," she replied, and trembled just slightly at her own boldness. The grin broadened.

"Mako told me you got cornered by Nuo Beifong." A snort at her nod. "She does like putting her nose in where it doesn't belong." Another smoke ring. "Mako took care of it. He's one of the few people not intimidated by her. She won't do it again, I don't think. She does, though, you come and let me know."

"Alright," she said. She didn't know how to speak to them. She'd never have a conversation like this with a driver, who would be far beneath her in the Fire Nation's rigidly held household echelon. She'd certainly never speak to a family member like this. The wind was tugging their hair loose, and they were sitting in their shirtsleeves, buttons at that long throat undone, staring at her, blowing those cocky smoke rings. She knew she should go. It wasn't proper. The conversation, her feelings, any of it.

That grin again, slow, so slow. "You going to smoke that thing or just hold it?"

She felt herself color up a bit. "I don't...I don't actually smoke."

They chuckled, a rusty sound. "Yeah, I figured that. Here." They leaned forward and slid it it out of her hands and into their mouth. holding both cigarettes there for a moment before taking the old one out and crushing it out against the wall. Miwa swallowed. "Just as well. Bad habit. Started when I was too young, wish I never had." Another smoke ring. "Anyhow. I'm keeping you from your free time. Sorry. I should turn in, it's late. There'll be a big fuss tomorrow, leaving. There always is." They slid down off the wall and carefully crushed out Miwa's cigarette before putting both stumps into the silver case. "You have a good night, now." With a saunter, they headed back down the path towards the house.

It took a few minutes for Miwa to regain her composure enough to walk herself back as well. 

The next day had run her ragged; there had indeed been a big fuss, getting two families packed and into taxis, starting the work to clean up after them, making sure that the temporary staff didn't try to take advantage of the chaos to slack off on their last day for the time being. She'd eaten on the run, trying to be everywhere at once. She felt satisfied, however, as she sat in her chair on the terrace; she'd sent home the temporary staff with a selection of leftover foods as well as a second small bonus that the Prince had instructed her to give to them in red envelopes; the permanent staff had eaten well and had relaxed, opening up their own more generous bonuses and toasting their new master with a glass of sake.

She gazed about her small private suite, the one reserved for the Majordomo, the first time in her life she hadn't had to share a room with someone else. It was comfortable and done in her favorite colors of blue and white; there was a photograph of her parents on the wall and a vase with some of the flowers the full time gardener had brought her that afternoon, handing them to her with a wink. She was an attractive woman and a discreet dalliance with her would be fine so long as they both kept it professional outside of the bedroom. Relationships weren't forbidden, after all. There were rules to them, and Miwa knew exactly what those rules were.

The rules did not include exchanging midnight cigarettes with the former driver who was soon to be, as she understood it, the consort of the Hou-Ting prince himself. Fraternizing with the family belonged in the Do Not Do Ever section of the rulebook. The part of the rulebook the former driver themself had quite nicely shattered, yes? Well, never mind. That was them and Miwa was just herself. Best to remember herself; best to remain professionally formal and behave as she'd been trained.

She might take up smoking, though.

With a smile, she finished off her wine.


	2. A Familial Fracas: Azula Comes To Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Archive of a Tumblr prompt. Azula comes for a visit.
> 
> This takes place a few days before [All The Wealth The Past Has Made](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9423905/chapters/21332510), referencing a comment one of the characters made there.

“Auntie, I would like to remind you that I expect you to be on your best behavior.” The Firelord was trying very hard to keep her temper. Both of her aunts were there in the parlor of her mansion on Ember Island; her younger aunt, Kiyi, was sitting on a settee, looking pained. Her elder aunt, Azula, was standing across the room, sneering at her. She sighed internally, reminding herself that fits of temper were beneath the leader of a nation. She wished her son were here, however. Azula always had liked him more than the rest of them put together and from the time he’d been a small boy Iroh had usually been able to coax her out of some of her worst moods. **  
**

“You’re telling me how to behave now? Oh, aren’t we just the finest example of an exalted Firelord.” Azula’s lip curled up. “Zuzu would be so proud.”

“Give off, Azula,” Kiyi said.

“Oh, I’m sorry, was that a little meadow vole I heard squeaking? Squeak squeak squeak!”

“Oh dear, she’s called me a meadow vole. What an insult. Whatever will I do? Boo-hoo, I’m so sad.” Kiyi affected a bored pose, her voice dry. Azula gritted her teeth.

“Listen here, you little peasant-”

“That’s enough, Auntie.” Izumi cut her off firmly. If you let her go she’d get worked up and rant for hours.

She’d tried, spirits knew she’d done her best with Azula. Her father had loved her, for some inexplicable reason, and it was in his honor that she’d even invited her. It’s not like she wanted her. Azula delighted in chaos; nothing made her happier than setting things on fire, both metaphorically as well as physically. The Fire Shamans were more than welcome to her. The plan had been that she’d come for the New Year with Ursa; Azula being Azula, of course, had shown up early and professed no knowledge at all of the plan. Oh, she knew what the plan was, sure enough. She was just making sure they all remembered that she did whatever it was she wanted. The woman had turned one hundred the past summer and Izumi was convinced the only thing keeping her alive was spite.

Azula sniffed, glancing around the room. “I hope you had your decorators flogged. It looks like a bordello in here.”

“And you know what the inside of a bordello looks like? Do tell.” Kiyi leaned forward with faux-eagerness.

“Auntie,” she warned, giving Kiyi a look. She loved her dearly, but Azula brought out the worst in her, just like she did to the rest of them. Kiyi met her eye and sighed, nodding, raising a hand in apology. Izumi took in a deep breath and pasted on her very best diplomat’s face.

“If we could get back to the subject at hand, insofar as I know everyone is coming. Possibly not Suyin Beifong’s oldest son, however.”

Azula grunted. “See, now he’d be interesting to meet.” She shrugged nonchalantly, but Izumi wasn’t fooled. In her experience Azula wasn’t nonchalant about anything. “But that girl, Aang’s granddaughter, she’s coming?” Her tone intimated that she could care less, but she’d seen the betraying gleam in her eyes.

“I’m not sure which one you mean, but both of them are coming, yes.”

“Interesting.”

Wary, she wanted to ask what was so interesting about it, but knew better from painful experience. The moment Azula thought she had any advantage over you she’d go for blood. She caught Kiyi’s eye, and she shook her head slightly. She didn’t know either. She’d ask Ursa when she arrived, then. The last thing she needed was for Azula to be harassing anyone’s children.

She mentally fortified herself. “Also, Prince Hou-Ting and his family are coming.”

Azula crossed her arms. “Please tell me this is one of your feeble attempts at humor.”

“I expect you to behave. If you have nothing nice to say to him then kindly don’t say anything at all.” She exchanged another look with Kiyi, who was massaging at her forehead with her fingers.

Azula gritted her teeth. “That throne was mine. I took it fair and square. I was the fifty-third Hou-Ting, not that woman that was stupid enough to let some novice airbender choke her to death.”

“You weren’t a Hou-Ting at all. You were never a part of that dynasty.” Kiyi wrapped her hand around her cane and carefully hoisted herself up. “That’s not how it works, Azula. You aren’t a member of the family.”

“And that puling little deserter is?” Azula turned to face her sister.

“Yes. He is. He was the fifty-fourth and last of his line. The Hou-Ting Dynasty practiced agnatic non-bending primogeniture, if you recall. You most certainly weren’t eligible on any level.” Kiyi shrugged. “I don’t make the rules.” She leaned slightly forward. “And despite your lifelong belief, neither do you.” Her smile was not pleasant. “You were nothing but a very, very short-term and unacknowledged usurper, dear sister. Time to get over it.”

“I’ll give you get over it,” Azula hissed, raising her hands, the smell of ozone rising through the fragrance of the tropical garden outside the open veranda.

“AUNTIE AZULA,” she thundered, finally letting loose with a little of her anger. “You will not bend in my home. Do I make myself entirely clear?”

Azula rolled her eyes, but dropped her hands. “Just like your father,” she muttered. “Zuzu always did get hard when he got to bellow orders.”

She ignored this provocation. “You are a guest and you will remain respectful of Prince Hou-Ting as well as his family in my home.”

Azula scoffed. “What, you mean those filthy motherless street rabble he calls children? Please.”

“Don’t you talk about them like that!” Sozui materialized from behind the door, where he’d clearly been listening. His face was flushed with fury, his hands clenched into fists. Juziya was right behind him, putting a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Don’t you dare! They’re better than you ever were!”

Azula cackled at that. “Well now, there’s some fire! Good to see the line of Sozin hasn’t been too watered down.” She shook her finger at him. “I’ve heard tell that you’re not much in the brains department, though.”

The only sign of Juziya’s anger was the tightening of her mouth. “Leave Sozui alone, Auntie.” She pulled him back into her chest, curving her arm protectively around him.

Azula threw a hand out, still hooting. “Oh, would you look at that, Izumi. It looks like at least both of your grandsons overcame the taint of your mother.”

Juziya took in a sharp breath before the room fell silent. Even Azula stopped laughing, hands falling to her sides. A look flickered across her face; was it regret? Izumi closed her eyes briefly, opening them again as Kiyi brought her cane down on the floor with a resounding crack, eyes blazing. Azula frowned unhappily, eyes sliding to the side for a moment before bringing them back to Juziya’s still face.

“Here now, girl. I didn’t mean it.” She took a step towards Juziya. “Sometimes I don’t think before I speak.” Sozui’s eyes were wide in his shocked face and he leaned into his sister.

Juziya met her eyes, chin held high. “Is that meant to be an apology?”

“I…” Azula looked, suddenly, all of her hundred years, bowing her head and plucking feebly at her robes. “I said didn’t mean it.” Her tone was sulky, her frown deepening.

“That’s still not an apology.” Juziya refused to back down, and Izumi’s heart was so full of pride for this woman, her strong, vibrant granddaughter, her heir. Once again she regretted that her own mother had died before she had been born. Juziya had so much of her great-grandmother’s intelligence and resolution, her serene strength of will. Her mother would have loved her, she knew.

“Spirits beyond,” said Kiyi, disgusted, shaking her head. “There’s low and there’s low. You of all people should know better, Azula.”

Azula turned, her face twisting with hatred. “And what’s that supposed to mean, child of a peasant?”

“You know exactly what it means, child of a homicidal maniac.”

“I’ll give you a maniac,” Azula screeched, hands raising again.

“Aunties!” She raised her own hands. “I will not have this in my home!” She pointed at Kiyi. “Stop baiting her, Auntie Kiyi!” She swung her gaze to Azula. “And you owe Juziya an apology.”

Azula’s laugh was cruel. “I’d rather apologize to an aardvark sloth. At least it knows what it is.”

“You will apologize to Juziya or else you may leave my home,” Izumi said, teeth clenched. Her fire was writhing in her as she desperately hung on to her own temper. Azula was one of the few people in the world who could goad her into losing it, and she could feel her control slipping.

“You boot licking half-breed little toadie,” Azula shrilled. “You don’t even deserve the title of Firelord. Thank the comet my father was dead before he saw someone of your blood on our sacred, ancestral throne!”

“OUT!” She roared, her temper exploding into rage. “GET OUT!” She pointed towards the door. “I don’t give a damn how you get off this island, but don’t you ever come back into my home!”

“Oh, I’m getting,” Azula said, sneering. “Like I’d want to stay here with you lot of freaks.” She shuffled her way to the door.

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” Kiyi said, and in a quick movement that was shocking in a woman her age Azula turned and launched a blue fireball at her. Kiyi squawked in surprise, managing at the last second to redirect it onto the settee where she had been sitting. “Oh you vindictive bitch!” she shouted as Azula’s raucous laughter followed her out. Sozui broke free of his sister and closed the door behind her with a firm shove.

“I hate her,” he said, chin trembling. “Why is she like that? Why is she always so mean?”

Kiyi sighed. “Our mother left her alone and her father broke her, over and over again.” She held out a hand for him and stretched up as far as she could to kiss his cheek. “I’m not excusing her, she’s an adult and she makes her choices. But the things that were done to her? They were things no child should ever have to bear.” She glanced at Izumi. “Your poor father always felt so guilty, so responsible, no matter how many times your mother and I reminded him that it wasn’t his fault.”

Juziya walked to the settee and quickly put the fire out. “It’s done for,” she said, looking down at the scorched hole that took up half the seat, still smoking.

“That was new, too,” she said, and then she started to laugh helplessly. It was either that or cry, and her tears weren’t going to do any of them any good. “Where am I supposed to find a another one before everyone arrives?”

“Are you the Firelord or not?” Kiyi rejoined tartly. “Be imperial for once, and demand an immediate replacement.”

“Naoki’s not street rabble,” Sozui said, tears in his eyes. Kiyi put a gentle hand to his cheek.

“Of course she’s not. Nor are her brother and sister. They are royal children. Your great-great aunt just did what she usually does, which is to say whatever it is that she thinks will cause the most hurt. Truth isn’t exactly something she’s known for. You never mind a thing she said.” She patted his cheek fondly. “Now then, this was too much excitement for one old lady. What say you take your Auntie Kiyi to the kitchen and we’ll see if we can beg some tea and cakes from the cook, hmm?”

He brightened a little. “The cook never gives me extra cakes, even when I ask nicely.”

“Well, he can’t possibly refuse me, can he? I’m too old and dignified to refuse. Come along, now. Do you think you can look very hungry?” She gave him a little nudge towards the door, leaning on her cane.

“I am actually hungry.”

“Well then! Perfect! Show me your hungry look. Oh, you can do better than that! Suck in your cheeks a little! Now that’s better.” She exchanged a quick look with Izumi as they left the room.

Juziya sighed and Izumi moved forward to wrap her arms around her as she lay her cheek against hers. “It’s like Auntie said. Never mind. You know better than to listen to a damn thing Azula says. She’s pure poison. She always has been.”

“It’s not like she said anything that people don’t already think.” She moved her head to gaze at her, the two of them of a height. “Some of them will never see me as anything else but your grandson. Maybe it would be easier if I just went back.” She swallowed, the knot in her throat more prominent as she battled tears.

“Some of them might. But so many of them don’t, you know that. And it doesn’t matter anyhow. You can’t go back to a lie, my love. You are exactly who you are meant to be, the Crown Princess, my heir. My beloved granddaughter.” She smoothed her hair back. “I love you so very much. And I am so proud of you.”

“Oh Grandmama,” she sobbed, and she tightened her arms around her and rocked her, her own sweet girl.


	3. A Dedicated Cultivation: The Prince of the Fire Nation Dresses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Sozui and his new valet.
> 
> Part of the Different POV Challenge on Tumblr. Prompt by caelumlevitas!

Yoji straightened the pile of boots in front of him with a soundless sigh. He'd been assigned to His Royal Highness Prince Sozui on his fourteenth birthday, a month ago now, and the prince was still getting used to the idea of a valet. The prince, upon wakening, was meant to pull the cord near his bed to summon him but he invariably forgot and Yoji would arrive as the prince was in the middle of dressing himself. Yesterday morning he'd explained that Prince Hou-Ting had some sort of bells in his home that would ring with electricity if you pushed a button but the Palace was not quite as modernized as private homes in Republic City, apparently. Nevertheless. He would get the Prince to ring for him properly if it was the last thing he'd do.

He would never criticize the Firelord, of course, but the Prince might have benefited from a valet at an earlier age. His wardrobe had been in a state; his boots only sporadically polished and his linens limp and wrinkled. Unacceptable! He'd had some severe words with the palace majordomo about the Prince's laundering needs. The Prince Royal, who had hired him, had told him that he was to do whatever was necessary to make sure his nephew was properly presented going forward and Yoji meant to do so. The Prince Royal's valet was a former military man and it showed; his master was always impeccably turned out, a credit to his house and his nation. Yoji could not do less for his young master.

"Is it just me or is this shirt shorter?" The Prince's voice sailed, wavered and cracked. He was making a face at himself in the full length mirror of his dressing room, tugging at it.

"I believe Your Highness has outgrown it as well." Yoji pulled out one of the Prince's new shirts from the closet. He had finally arranged the Prince's dressing room to his satisfaction; however, the Prince was in the middle of a growth spurt and was shedding too small clothes like a mongoose lizard shed its hide. He'd brought in the royal tailors a few days prior and had told them to make the Prince a priority and they'd delivered his new wardrobe the day before. Yoji had spent several hours re-organizing everything. It had been very satisfying.

"Damn it!" 

Yoji raised one eyebrow, very slowly. It was not his place to correct the Prince, of course. However, a small hint with regards to propriety never went amiss.

"Uh. Monkeyfeathers?" The Prince grinned rather uncertainly. He was often more than a little reticent, Yoji had noticed. A royal prince never needed to look for approval from anyone but his ancestors but this youngest member of the Royal Family was often overshadowed by his illustrious relatives. He was not ignored, of course. The Firelord herself clearly had great affection for him. Nevertheless, he was still considered a child and was usually left out of state matters. He was an intelligent boy; that had been obvious from the start. It was also evident that despite his youth the Prince took his duties seriously, which was certainly a credit to how he had been raised. The Prince's public face was an amalgamation of many things, including his tutoring, his comportment, and his manner of dress. Eventually his tutors, his dancing master, even his firebending master would leave his life. Yoji, however, would be part of his young Master's life until such time as he was to retire. Yoji was only thirty-one years old. He had many years ahead of him with the Prince and he intended to make them count.

He was already rather fond of the boy. Not the most professional thing, in his line of work, but there it was. The Prince was amiable and generous with a rather droll sense of humor. He was polite and considerate to the staff - not a given from Fire Nation nobility, certainly not - and concentrated on his studies much the same as any other fourteen year old boy. He had an engaging way about him that, when he used it, tended to draw others in as well. He was never spoiled or demanding, which was certainly a change from the last young noble Yoji had been assigned to. A little hot-tempered, perhaps, but that was to be expected. He was a firebender and a royal, after all.

He also struck Yoji as a very lonely boy. His older sister, the Crown Princess, was always busy as the Firelord gave her more and more responsibility, preparing for the time when she would abdicate, much like her father the Firelord had done. The Princess Royal, His Highness's mother, had not been to Court in thirteen years now and his father, the Prince Consort, was usually with his wife in her countryside home. His royal aunt served the nation as a Fire Shaman and was rarely home; his royal uncle was still serving in the military and was frequently at sea. The Prince had grown up in the Palace and had always been tutored at home instead of being sent away to school. Just last week he had visited the estate of his maternal grandfather's family and had behaved quite differently than how he was at home; he was reserved and rather stiff. The other children his age had tried to engage him and while he'd participated in their games and other pastimes he'd been a shadow of the lively prince Yoji had observed in the short time he had been serving him. An obstructive combination of shyness and uncertainty, he'd come to believe. Unfortunately for the Prince the other children had mistaken it for haughtiness and had eventually left him alone, even going out of their way to avoid him.

"This one is nice," he said, his manners back in place, as Yoji helped him slide his arms into the sleeves of the new shirt, taking care to make sure his hair did not get caught. The Prince had long, thick black hair, straight and slightly coarse. He'd been pulling it into a ponytail on his own but Yoji had trimmed the ends neatly and was now dressing it in the traditional style, pulling the hair at his crown into a top knot, securing it with a pin of gold and rubies that signified his royal status. As much as the Prince talked about the household of the Hou-Ting Prince he was more than a little surprised that the boy hadn't asked to have it cut short, much as his royal uncle's hair was. He hadn't, though, merely saying that he liked how it looked longer.

There was a formal photograph of the Hou-Ting family in a frame on the table next to his bed; the Prince himself, the Prince Consort, the soon-to-be Royal Consort, the three royal children, the Lady Beifong and a former resident of the Fire Nation who was apparently the chef, of all people. He had had no idea why the chef would be part of a family photograph but the Prince had explained that he was an unofficial consort to the Lady Beifong. Imagine! The citizens of The United Republic of Nations were an unruly bunch, certainly. No sense of propriety.

The Prince also had a candid photograph of the eldest Hou-Ting Princess. She was dressed in gi, long braids wrapped around her head, a katana in her hand, laughing at whomever had taken the photo. The Prince had explained to him that she was a foundling; she was clearly of Fire Nation descent, however. He had not seen her famous demi kai but he'd heard about it, of course. Everyone had. It was most certainly not his place to wonder, but it would not surprise him at all if the Firelord and the Hou-Ting Prince were planning a match between the children. It made sense; they were of an age and were both royalty as well as firebenders. Surely their progeny would only strengthen the line of Firelords to come!

"If His Highness would please take a seat," he murmured, and the Prince sat down obediently in front of the mirror. Yoji quickly ran a brush through his hair, easing out any tangles, expertly pulling it up and clipping it. The Prince stared at himself in the mirror. His face was changing as his body lengthened and expanded; his chin squaring up a bit, the baby fat melting off of those extraordinarily high and broad cheekbones, his expressive and mobile mouth shadowed by just the slightest touch of dark fuzz. The Prince had not yet mastered the knack of hiding his feelings, however; his face still showed every joy, every disappointment, every eruption of anger. 

"So I guess you are coming with me when we go to Republic City for the wedding," the Prince said, tucking back the forelock that liked to slide out of place no matter what Yoji did to it.

He nodded as he gestured the Prince up. "Of course, Your Highness."

"Grandmama says we'll be staying at the Four Elements Hotel. I usually stay at their house, though. Would you come with me if I stayed in their house?" He gnawed at a fingernail; at Yoji's pointed look he snatched his hand away and put it behind his back. 

"Naturally, Your Highness. Prince Hou-Ting's staff would prepare a room for me. As your valet my place is with you."

"Oh." The Prince considered this a moment as Yoji looked him over critically, tugging his shirt into place. "Well, Wu doesn't have a valet. Prince Wu, I mean."

A minute pause while he tried to process this information. "His Highness does not have a valet?"

The Prince shrugged. "Well, their house is kind of weird that way. Naoki told me once that it was because Wu hated the way he was raised so much. I don't know if that's true or not, though. I mean, they have servants of course, but none of them live there, only LoLo, and he's not really a servant." His mouth twisted to the side as he considered. "I don't really know what you would call LoLo. He's the chef but also the grandfather." Another shrug. "Naoki says that her father told her once that he was the happiest in his life when he lived with Mako's extended family in Republic City and that's what he wanted his own house to feel like."

"The Prince Consort, you mean?" Yoji knew better than to gossip, of course. But this was important information for him to have. After all, the Prince was intimately acquainted with the family and would most likely spend time with them in the future. Better that he knew what was expected from him whilst there.

"Mako's family on his father's side were refugees from Ba Sing Se when the Earth Queen was killed. Naoki told me all about it. They were living in the Sato mansion - which is bigger than Wu's house, I went there once with them, it's like a palace more than a house - and when Kuvira tried to kill Wu then Mako moved him there with his family. He was really happy there, Naoki says." The Prince picked up his hairbrush and put it back down. "But I bet you couldn't even tell that Wu didn't have a valet. He always looks perfect. More perfect than me, that's for sure."

"Your Highness is quite nicely turned out today, if I do say so myself," Yoji reassured him. It was true. The Prince stood tall and strong, dressed in the customary black, gold and red. "I am sure that even Prince Hou-Ting would approve."

"Yoji, can you...would you help me? At the wedding, I mean? Next month? Naoki will be there and I want to..." he trailed off, that telltale face of his more than a little heartbreaking in its naked vulnerability. 

Yoji allowed his face to relax a bit from its usual neutral expression, meeting the Prince's gold eyes. "I quite understand, Your Highness. You need to look your absolute best. You may rely upon me to see to it."

His grin illuminated the Prince's entire face. "Thanks, Yoji. For everything. I wasn't all that sure about getting a valet, but you've made it easy for me. I'm glad Uncle Iroh chose you."

His smile in return was genuine. "As am I, Your Highness. As am I." He reached over with the clothesbrush and dusted off an imaginary piece of lint from his shoulder. "Now, then. Your history tutor is waiting, Your Highness. I would not like it said that I made you late."

"Oh believe me, it's Grandmama he'd tattle to, and she'd give me the _I'm disappointed in you Sozui_ look, not you." The Prince made a rather stern face, which resembled the Firelord enough to almost surprise Yoji into a laugh. Almost. "I'll see you tonight!" The Prince started to dash towards the door; with a little glance backwards he stopped himself and then proceeded forward in a more acceptable, if still quite rapid, walk. The door slammed behind him and Yoji chuckled just a little. Well. He was still a work in progress.

He picked up the too small shirt and began to fold it. He was his Prince, now. He would devote his life to him, the way his great-great grandfather had done for Firelord Zuko when he had taken his rightful place on the throne. It was his honor to do his own ancestors proud. Prince Sozui would become the man his great-grandfather was if Yoji had anything to do with it. He put the shirt into a box of outgrown clothing he was collecting and went to fetch his mending kit. There was work to be done, after all.


End file.
